Batman and Her Daughters
by Raberba girl
Summary: A Batfam genderswap AU.
1. Batman & Robin Origins - Part 1

***READ THIS FIC ON AO3, IT'S NOT WORTH READING ON FFN.**

Batman and Her Daughters

(rough draft)

A Batman fanfic by Raberba girl

Summary: A Batfam genderswap AU.

A/N: I couldn't find a succinct way to specify that biological sex is swapped as well as gender. All the characters in this fic are cis (including the character whom everyone mistakes as trans for a while).

The only non-swapped character in this fic is Ra's al Ghul, for reasons that will become obvious.

Although I've long headcanoned Bruce as asexual, this is the first time I'm deliberately writing him (her) as such.

 **DO NOT READ THIS FIC IF YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS.**

Part 1

On the night that will forever change Gotham, Thomasina and Martin Wayne are murdered in an alley before the horrified eyes of their eight-year-old daughter.

Bryce, kneeling in her parents' blood, weeps until gentle hands lift her. As others collect evidence, Officer Jan Gordon drapes her coat over the child's shoulders and asks the questions as gently as possible.

"Why did she kill them?" Bryce sobs. "They didn't do anything wrong!"

Jan knows that no answer will ever be good enough.

o.o.o.o.o

Bryce stays in her room for a week. She barely eats or sleeps, and Alberta's grief is compounded with deep concern. She loved her employers, she loves their bright, keenly intelligent little daughter, and seeing the child wasting away like this makes her rethink her ability to take responsibility for the girl. Perhaps she should have let Bryce go into the care of relatives after all.

 _'No. The Kanes would treat the daughter of Martin Wayne coldly at best. I have no idea what to do with a child, but I love Bryce.'_ Surely the girl will do better with an inexperienced guardian who loves her than with a family who has always resented her father and her name. "Mistress Bryce, I've made your favorite. Won't you at least take a taste? Please, for me?"

The little girl does not even turn her head.

o.o.o.o.o

Bryce does not speak for a year. When she does at last, she is bullied at school for three months. Then she fights back, and at last is expelled after too many altercations. Alberta hires a tutor for her, but Bryce is so coldly and brutally efficient in humiliating him that he doesn't even last two weeks. Alberta takes over the girl's education herself, and Bryce grimly storms through her studies like they are an enemy to be beaten.

When Bryce is eleven, Alberta tries again, bribing a good school to accept her young charge. Bryce keeps to herself, making no friends and causing much resentment among her schoolmates, but at least she avoids getting into trouble this time.

She graduates early, at age sixteen, and spends a few months partying with reckless intensity. She takes up drag racing, enraging and frightening Alberta with her resulting injuries and numerous brushes with death. She sits through her guardian's furious scoldings silently, her expression harsh and grim.

The day after Bryce's seventeeth birthday, she disappears from Gotham, leaving behind no trace except a note.

It is four long, lonely years before Alberta's young mistress, her daughter of the heart, comes home at last.

o.o.o.o.o

Bryce Wayne left home to train her body, mind, and spirit. She knows by now that she will never recover from her parents' senseless deaths, and she is overcome with a burning need to make sure such suffering _never happens again_ in her city.

She wanders the earth, seeking teachers. She finds them, and she learns, whether they want to teach her or not.

When she has honed herself almost to perfection, she at last catches the attention of the ancient al Ghul clan.

Ra's al Ghul has little respect for women, but Bryce Wayne manages to impress even him. He brings her to his desert fortress for further testing, and the moment Bryce is greeted by Ra's's favored son, she knows she will not be leaving this place anytime soon.

It's not so much that Talian al Ghul is handsome (though he is, exceedingly so). It's the sharp intelligence in his eyes, his understanding, the fact that he is the only person in the compound who truly respects Bryce and the only one she finds pleasant to converse with.

"My father underestimates you," Talian observes one evening, after a sparring session. "I have lived for centuries, but only rarely have I fought any warrior as exquisite as you. If you only fought to kill, you would be unbeatable by anyone but myself and Father."

"I didn't learn to fight in order to kill," Bryce says shortly, lowering her flask of water. "I'm doing this so that I can make sure I never have to see anyone die again."

"So young and sweetly naïve," Talian murmurs, brushing affectionate fingertips across her face. Bryce looks at him.

Weeks pass. No longer do Bryce and Talian simply train together; now they share meals, take long walks, have conversations under the stars that last until dawn.

"Father is very pleased with you."

Bryce merely answers with a grunt. They are out in the desert, she studying books by lamplight, Talian sprawled across the blanket, watching her admiringly.

"He hopes, as do I, that you will decide to give up your dim little city and join our cause."

"I am here to learn, nothing more."

" _Nothing_ more?" Talian questions, and something in his voice makes Bryce look up.

"Talian...it has been pleasant, spending these months with you. But I told you at the beginning that I would not stay for long. Someday, I will return to Gotham."

"What a prize your heart is, always just out of reach."

Bryce is disturbed to find herself blushing. She has never been in love before. Having never experienced more than an objective interest in the human body, knowing no one before Talian who came close to tempting her, having greatly desired to avoid pregnancy or disease, she was careful, even in the worst of her debauchery, to never let herself fall too much under the influence, had never let any wandering hands make it far. The more unscrupulous of her teachers, she had beaten off or escaped from.

Even now, she has no desire to be Talian's lover in the physical sense, but his velvet voice and the admiration in his eyes make something within her stir. It is not the first time, either; sometimes during their sparring matches, Talian will execute a move so flawlessly and gracefully that the sheer joy of watching him will incite a brief moment of arousal.

If Bryce were an ordinary young woman, she might not mind being bedded by such a magnificent man. Yet if she were an ordinary woman, she would never have met Talian, and she is _not_ an ordinary young woman. She has work, a purpose, a mission, and love has no part in it, nor do any of the complications that so easily accompany love.

The moment passes; Bryce's cheeks are cool again. "I think your grasping fingers are much farther away than you think they are."

o.o.o.o.o

"I must say, you constantly astound me, my dear." Ra's looks up from the plans Bryce has just finished explaining and stares at her as he would an animal who had just opened its mouth and spoken in perfect Arabic.

Bryce feels the familiar curl of annoyance, but does not bother to let it show. Someday, probably soon at the rate she's been progressing, she will leave and never see Ra's al Ghul again, and what will it matter then what he thinks of her?

"I can scarcely believe it, but of all women, Bryce Wayne of Gotham, only you are worthy to eat at my table."

"Hn."

"Your manners could do with improvement, I suppose."

"Your enemies won't care how ill-mannered I am if you execute my plan properly."

"Yes, that is true."

o.o.o.o.o

"What are these for?" Bryce asks suspiciously, fingers trailing through the flower petals.

"What do you think, beloved?"

Bryce is quiet.

"I have given you flowers before."

"Not like...not like this, Talian. This is..."

 _"Eternal love,"_ the flowers say. _"Faith and loyalty."_

"Other than my mother and my father, beloved, I don't think I've ever cared for anyone more than I care for you."

Bryce understands this. And...with her parents long gone, with Alberta like a lost dream, it is...very nice, to be somebody's beloved again. This time, she does not take it for granted.

o.o.o.o.o

They are under the stars again. They have been silent for some time, simply enjoying each other's presence - Bryce was enjoying Talian's, at any rate, feeling his steady warmth beside her.

Now he rolls over on top of her, takes her face in his hands, and kisses her, capturing her lips and tongue with authority.

She is shocked at the suddenness of it, but then her battle instincts take over. They grapple, and this time she straddles him. She stoops to kiss him before either of them can think.

They continue to struggle for a while, he almost playfully, her in frustration. She does not like being dominated, particularly by an al Ghul who already thinks he owns the world.

Talian at last relaxes beneath her, moves his hands more passively [*censored because FFN is stupid*]. Uncomfortable, she presses on with her lips. She has never kissed anyone before, but she does not let that stop her from invading his mouth, staking claim so that he cannot claim her first. It feels like it should be a victory, but it isn't, not with the way he's touching her.

[*censored because FFN is stupid*]

"You really are perfect in every way," he murmured, withdrawing immediately and petting her in a way that's probably meant to be soothing but makes her feel humiliated. The pain fades to a dull ache. "Remarkable, for a 21-year-old Western woman."

"Stop touching me," she hisses through gritted teeth, "before I kick your ass into your throat."

"So innocent and coarse all at once!" he laughs, but he takes his hands away and rests them on the ground beside his head in an almost mocking show of submission, still gazing at her with affection.

"...Talian...you can't...touch me like that. Without permission. _Don't_."

"I apologize," he says with what sounds like warm sincerity. "I will protect your virtue from now on."

"I will protect my own virtue."

Talian tilts his head, considering her. "When you say such things, beloved, you really make me believe them. I love you."

Bryce opens her mouth, because she loves Talian, too, but the words will not leave her lips. After a long moment, she gets up and walks away.

(She discovers later that Ra's had ordered a test of her 'purity,' and that Talian had thought himself kind for sparing her an examination by a physician.)

o.o.o.o.o

She can't stop thinking about it. She can't stop.

 _'I've been leading him on.'_ She's been telling him, over and over since the beginning, that she will leave him and return to Gotham someday, but he never seems to believe her. Or more like, he always seems to think she will change her mind in the end.

 _'I didn't want him to touch me.'_ She'd never...said that, though; she hadn't- Why hadn't she thrown him off? She _could_ have. She had fought harder and more successfully many times during training. Why, when he had...when he- ...Why hadn't she thrown him off?

 _'I let him do it, so he thinks I liked it. He thinks it's okay to do it again.'_

She has to...tell him. She has to be clear.

...She has to break his heart. She is _leaving_ , she cannot afford to get Talian al Ghul's hopes up. She has to refuse to have anything to do with him from now on.

 _'Tomorrow. I'll tell him tomorrow.'_

o.o.o.o.o

The morning comes, then the afternoon, then the evening, and she doesn't tell him. She means to, but every time, something happens to prevent it. _'You're making excuses,'_ she tells herself fiercely. _'You_ _must_ _break his heart, even if it means breaking your own.'_

She gets up to seek him out and tell him, but he comes to her first.

Talian enters her bedchamber alone, dressed in nothing but a sheer white robe and bearing a bejeweled gold chalice. "Are you well this evening, beloved?" he asks solemnly.

"My thoughts are troubled. I need to speak with you."

"There is plenty of time to talk tomorrow. Relax, beloved." He sips from the chalice, then offers it to her. She, too, takes a sip of what tastes not-quite-like wine.

Back and forth they pass the cup without speaking until the drink is all gone. With each sip, Bryce's urgency dies away, replaced with peace and contentment.

She smiles up at her companion. "I love you, Talian." No, what...? That isn't what...

He kisses her softly. She basks in the sweet warmth. "And I, you, beloved." He smiles at her. "I yearn for the moment when we will meet again." He goes away, and maidservants enter. Bryce feels _peaceful_ and _content_ , and maybe there's a reason she should resist them stripping away her clothing, washing and perfuming her body, and dressing her in an outrageously fine gown, but she can't remember what it is. She keeps dozing off.

She did it again just now, because they were decorating her nails but now they're walking down the hall and she is giggling. "What a _beautiful_ night!"

"Yes, my lady," they answer blandly.

There is singing and dancing in the courtyard, and so very much food. Bryce thinks she might be drunk, whirling around the fire in her beloved's arms as his father's men clap and cheer. Ra's is there, enthroned, but Bryce cannot bring herself to look at his face; even the merest glimpse of the smile of the Demon's Head makes her flesh creep unpleasantly. "Tali," she laughs breathlessly, "Tali...I love you...belvo- bevoled!"

"I think I might have overestimated the dose," Talian laughs, and his gaze is affectionate. "I hope you don't forget this night entirely, beloved."

"I never forget _anything_ ," she sighs happily, leaning in his arms, wondering why something doesn't feel right. There's something wrong, there's something-! Her shoe, maybe? Her slipper is falling off, the back of it scrunched under her heel; that must be it. Talian...Talian is-

It's dark, and quiet; soft and hot. _Heavy_ , Talian's body pressing her down. She doesn't remember how she got here. It was the fire and the dancing, but suddenly now it's the last of the silk brushing away from her bare skin, leaving her exposed. Talian is kissing her [*censored because FFN is stupid*], and she can't breathe.

 _'The...drink...'_

[*censored because FFN is stupid*] her limbs feel like lead, she can't stop it, they're going to get her pregnant and then they'll use the baby to _make_ her stay, this was...her head feels so...

"No." It's almost the only word both her thoughts and her lips can shape, that she has the strength for. And barely that; the best she can do is force it out in a slurred moan. "No...Talian...no..."

Talian pauses and gazes down at her, his brow furrowed.

"No," she whispers.

Thoughtfully, he moves down, [*censored because FFN is stupid*] she drifts away before even feeling the first touch of his tongue.

o.o.o.o.o

She wakes abruptly in the searing sunlight of late morning, her head buzzing with a headache but her thoughts clear. She sits up too quickly; her whole body aches.

She is naked. In a lush bed next to Talian, also naked, asleep. The marks of his kisses are all over her body. The last thing she remembers is his face lowering down past her belly, she doesn't even remember the act itself. But he must have kept going once he was done, because there is a soreness between her legs that was definitely caused by something more substantial than a tongue.

She is shaking and numb as she climbs out of bed. The bathing chamber has no shower (and no lock). She fills the tub with hot, hot water and steps in, meaning to scrub herself clean, but instead her knees draw themselves up to her chest and her arms wrap around them and she hides her face.

She sits there, unmoving, until the water has gone lukewarm. She doesn't even sense him until he's stepping into the bath behind her. "Good morning, beloved," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her, pressing her naked body to his, and she tries to struggle but his hands are already on her breasts, between her legs; his lips on her neck.

"Don't TOUCH me!" she screams. "What the _fuck_ , Talian?!"

He sounds genuinely surprised. "I was very careful last night. You shouldn't have suffered any significant damage."

At last, she manages to lurch free and stumble out of the tub. She gropes for a towel but can't seem to get it around herself; she stands there, shaking, with the cloth simply held in front of her body as Talian stares at her in annoyed confusion. "You fucking _raped_ me, Talian. What the hell! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

He stands up impatiently, and she looks away, sick at the sight of his naked body. "I understand why you were displeased with the liberties I took before our union, but now that we are married-"

"WE'RE NOT FUCKING _MARRIED_!" She hurls a fancy bottle at him and rushes back into the bedroom, pausing only to rifle through the wardrobe for something to wear before hurrying out into the hall.

A minute later, Talian, clad in a simple robe, is following her as she tries to find her way back to her room. "Beloved, calm down."

"I'm not your _beloved_ ," she snarls, "I'm not your _toy_ or a pet, I am no longer your father's student, I am LEAVING." She came to the al Ghul compound with nothing but the clothes on her back; her passport was safely stored soon after she entered the country. She has nothing of value here except a growing collection of gifts from Talian and Ra's, all of them now worthless to her. All she needs is the emergency bag she always keeps by her bed, full of supplies in case a quick escape is needed. The minute she finds it, she seizes it, along with a pair of boots and a short sword, and storms back out.

"Bryce-"

"Tell your father goodbye for me, Talian," Bryce snaps without looking back.

Talian finally leaps so that he can land in front of her, blocking her way. His eyes are hard, and Bryce readies herself for a fight. However, he makes no move toward her; he simply says quietly, "You are not a prisoner here, and I know you will someday return, so I permit you to leave. I love you, Bryce Wayne of Gotham, and I will await our reunion. Your anger will cool once our son is born."

Something surges up inside Bryce. She knows she is either going to attack Talian or vomit; she chooses the knife hastily strapped to her belt, drawing it free and hurling it at Talian's head. He dodges it, and has a disappointed expression as he steps aside to let her pass.

Talian's men do not follow her, but at some point, the alarm is raised, and Ra's men coming riding out to pursue her. Bryce eludes them all; she makes it to her travel documents and to transportation out of the country.

She will panic if she thinks, so she does not think. She reads and studies aggressively until she arrives in Laurium, Greece. The very first thing she does is acquire a pregnancy test kit; the minute she's locked herself in a hotel room, she uses it.

The result is negative. It will take time and more tests for her to make absolutely sure, but for now, she slumps on the floor and sobs in relief.

TBC

 **A/N: Ftr, Bryce was NOT 'leading him on.' Talian was acting like an entitled bastard because that's how he was raised; he should not have read things into Bryce's behavior that weren't there, and he should have respected her words instead of assuming he knew her own mind better than she did.**


	2. Batman & Robin Origins - Part 2

**Batman and Her Daughters, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

 **Part 2 (rough draft)**

As she has for many, many nights, Alberta Pennyworth eats a quiet dinner by herself while listening to an international news program on the radio. She reads for an hour in a comfortable chair in her suite. She readies herself for bed and does one final check of the property, making sure the security system is functioning as it should and that she has not left any dangerous appliances on. She is reaching for the light switch in her bedroom when she hears something out in the house.

She brings her handgun and her phone, its screen already glowing with the command that will activate the alarms if she touches it. The noise is coming from the front hall.

At least, it was. There's nothing there now except for a discarded pair of muddy boots and a trail of rainwater heading toward the stairs.

Alberta lowers the gun, struggling to get enough air to her lungs. Only one person could enter Wayne Manor without tripping the security system. She rushes up the stairs, not even bothering to glance at the trail; she knows where it will lead.

Bryce, halfway through the doorway of her childhood bedroom, pauses. She steps back out into the hall, her eyes soft and moist. "Alba."

"Mistress Bryce!"

The gun is hastily holstered and Alberta seizes her young charge by the shoulders, seeking injuries, drinking in her face, noting the changes. Bryce smiles a little. "I'm home."

"Get out of those wet clothes at once, Mistress Bryce, before you catch your death of cold."

o.o.o.o.o

Bryce Wayne has changed considerably in the years since she's been gone, and not just because she's physically older, with combat scars on her body and hair cropped ruthlessly short. The lost, angry teenager has been replaced with a grim, disciplined young woman.

Her first morning home, she rises long before Alberta does in order to train and meditate. After a quiet breakfast, she moves her personal possessions into the manor's master suite, symbolizing her new role as mistress of the property and head of the family (not that there is, technically, a Family anymore). With Alberta's help, she finds new places for her parents' things, ways to continue honoring their memory even as she claims their old spaces for herself.

She spends about half an hour contemplating Thomasina and Martin's headstones in the family cemetery. Then she goes back into the house, dresses up like the socialite she's supposed to be, puts on a luscious long wig and tasteful makeup, then goes out shopping to announce her grand return to Gotham.

o.o.o.o.o

Glad as Alberta is to see her young mistress home again, she is bewildered. It is as if there are two Bryces - a shallow, air-headed society girl indistinguishable from her useless peers except for the fact that she has the largest bank account and a marginally more sincere approach to charity; and a minimalist warrior deeply concerned about her city who spends whole nights, when she's not out suveying the streets in the worst parts of town, obsessing over plans.

Alberta wishes that Bryce would sleep more. The young woman spends her days at Wayne Enterprises, learning how Lucia Fox has been running the business in her absence. She spends her evenings partying and cultivating a public persona that Alberta finds distressingly vulgar and useless. And she spends her nights driving around in a black car and a black coat and a black mask, stopping whenever she sees a crime in order to put a stop to it with her fists. She only averages about three or four hours of sleep a night, it can't be healthy.

However, Mistress Bryce is no longer a child, and Alberta can no longer dictate her bedtimes, so the woman simply cooks and cleans and makes the bed as comfortable as she can and listens tensely to Bryce's grunts on the two-way radio, wishing there was more she could do.

o.o.o.o.o

Bryce waits and periodically tests until months have passed and there is no possible way she could be pregnant. There was no baby growing inside her. Talian's claim had simply been wishful thinking.

From the start, she had always meant to have the procedure done - a warrior who has dedicated her life to battle has no need of monthly physical complications, no business bringing a child into a life where it will not be cared for as it deserves. She doesn't bother to hide the hysterectomy, claiming the threat of cancer when asked by reporters or acquaintances. If nothing else, perhaps it can encourage other women who truly do need the procedure for the sake of their overall health. She is still a woman regardless of whether she is capable of making babies or not.

Even so. Despite all the justifications, her resolve, how long she thought she had mentally prepared herself. Still. For two straight days, as she's healing from the procedure. She weeps. _'I couldn't have taken care of them, anyway. I could never be a good mother.'_ Two straight days. _'It was the right thing to do, why does it have to_ _hurt_ _so much...?!'_

o.o.o.o.o

 _'They're not afraid of me.'_ Bryce is frustrated, sitting in a dark room, looking at a bust of her mother. _'It's not good enough to simply stop their crimes. I have to scare them so much that they won't_ _want_ _to commit anymore crimes in the future.'_ Unfortunately, criminals don't seem to be afraid of a lone woman in a ski mask. Angry when she breaks their fingers to disarm them and starts kicking out the teeth of their friends, but not _afraid_. There is nothing about her that will make them think twice the next time they get the urge to break the law and hurt people.

 _'I need an image. A persona. The opposite of Bryssie Wayne. Something to project so they'll see me the way I want them to.'_ Unlike the airheaded socialite, Bryce's more comfortable mask needs to be one that's larger than life.

There is a high-pitched screech, and then something crashes through the window. A huge, elderly bat staggers through the air and lands on the bust, bleeding and panting for breath.

Bryce stares at the black wings overshadowing the marble likeness of her mother's face. _'Yes. I shall become a Bat.'_

o.o.o.o.o

It never occurs to Bryce to name her persona, other than vaguely thinking of herself as 'the Bat' when she goes out at night. Clad now in sturdy black armor, a cowl that both hides her face and contains advanced detection technology, a specialized belt for all her tools, and a bat-wing cloak that she hopes to eventually develop into a glider, Bryce is actually having success now in frightening her opponents before she even throws a punch.

It is the rumors that circulate first, but eventually, stories about a new Dark Knight in Gotham City start to make it into the newspaper.

 _Batman_ , they call her. They have no reason to think she is a woman - her thick armor hides her feminine curves, her gloves hide her elegant hands, her cowl hides most of her jawline. She does not often speak on the streets, but when she does, it is in a variety of deep voices she has developed specifically for her night work. Most people, or at least most men, tend to assume that others are male unless proven otherwise. The assumption that 'Batman' is male helps to protect Bryce Wayne's identity and also boosts her threat level in the eyes of usually-sexist criminals, so she makes no effort to correct anyone.

With each passing night and every new criminal caught, Batman's reputation grows. Her arsenal grows as well, as Bryce continues to construct her workspace in the caves beneath the manor, and to stealthily turn her company's R&D department onto paths that will ultimately aid Batman's work.

Bryce Wayne does her best to make donations and support causes that will help the people of Gotham. Batman does her best to protect and defend those same people of Gotham. For the first time in her life, she feels something close to satisfaction. The preparation is over; her Mission has begun, and although she will probably never again know true happiness, her life once again has meaning.

o.o.o.o.o

It is a long chase across the rooftops, Batman grimly staying on the tail of a jewel thief in a skintight cat costume.

'Catman,' as the newspapers have dubbed him, slips his pursuer at last - or at least, he thinks he does, until he turns away and the grin drops from his face. Batman is looming in the doorway like a vengeful shadow, mouth in a tight, disapproving line. "My, my, aren't you persistent," Catman pouts.

"Hand over the jewels and surrender."

"Not a chance, Bats."

An hour later, Catman is cuffed and being pushed into a police car. Batman stands on a rooftop, the ragged hem of her cloak fluttering in the wind, her eyes watching the captured criminal for far longer than she usually bothers with.

TBC

A/N: I had Bryce grieving her hysterectomy as a matter of characterization, _not_ ideology.


	3. Batman & Robin Origins - Part 3

**Batman and Her Daughters, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

 **Part 3 (rough draft)**

An eight-year-old girl sobs as she kneels in the blood of her murdered parents.

Batman wants to scream, because she swore that she would never, _ever_ let this happen to another child, and she has failed.

o.o.o.o.o

Bryce throws herself into the Grayson case. She pursues leads and suspects relentlessly, desperate to bring the Graysons' killer to justice and give closure to their daughter.

...Their daughter. Riccarda Giovanna "Rickie" Grayson. Justice is all well and good, but she will be grieving whether her parents' murderer is arrested or not, the circus left mere days after the tragedy, Rickie's been alone in the Gotham foster system in a dangerous city in a foreign country...

Bryce looks up the girl's current circumstances, and is horrified at what she finds. Yet even Bryce Wayne can't bribe a child's way into a better home when there genuinely are no better homes available, and she can't simply bring a stranger's child into her own home when she's not licensed as a foster parent.

It takes time, but she eventually rectifies the latter problem. As for the former, she looks into expanding the Wayne Foundation, because Gotham City should not be so short on safe homes for displaced children that social services has to resort to _juvenile detention_ for emergency placement.

Rickie is exhausted and bruised, and shows little reaction to her new foster mother's arrival. Bryce's heart aches for the child, she desperately wants to comfort her on the drive home but doesn't know what to say. She has never felt comfortable verbally interacting with anyone she cares about, other than Alberta who knows her as well as she knows herself.

Emotion finally touches Rickie's expression when the gates open to admit them. "This... _this_ is where you live?"

"It's your home now, too," Bryce murmurs, trying to determine whether Rickie is awed or disgusted by the overabundance of Wayne Manor.

Rickie's face shuts down again. Bryce doesn't know what to say, and the journey up the long drive is completed in silence.

Inside the house, Bryce and Alberta show the child to her new room. They'd tried hard to make it welcoming, but Rickie shows no reaction after a brief, disinterested glance around.

"Would you like us to help you unpack, or do you want to be alone to settle in?" Bryce asks.

"I can unpack my own stuff," Rickie mumbles.

"All right. Just call if you need anything."

Out in the hall, Alberta leaves to resume her usual duties, but Bryce finds herself pacing, unable to abandon the new small person she is now responsible for. After a few minutes, her spine stiffens and she halts when she hears Rickie crying. She wants to rush in, take the girl in her arms and comfort her, but Rickie clearly wanted to grieve alone. Torn, Bryce leans against the bedroom door and helplessly listens to her foster daughter weep.

o.o.o.o.o

Not much actually changes. Bryce continues to go to work, investigate the Graysons' deaths, and patrol the city as Batman. It's not until Alberta confronts her that she realizes this is now a problem.

"Mistress Bryce, you have a _child_ now. Mistress Rickie thinks you don't care about her, and no wonder, when you always leave her alone in this great empty house! She needs love, attention, and reassurance from her caretaker, who is _you_. I am doing my best by her, but I am not the one she needs most."

Bryce grits her teeth. It's not that she doesn't want to spend any time with the girl, it's that she has no idea how to engage with her. Their dinners together are always awkward and silent, with Rickie's replies to her guardian's inquiries so terse and uninformative that Bryce is always...intimidated into quickly giving up.

 _'I can't let an eight-year-old intimidate_ _Batman_ _.'_

She tries harder at the next meal. "Riccarda-"

"Rickie."

"...Rickie. I was thinking, perhaps I could come home early from work tomorrow, and we could...go to...the park. If you don't like the manor grounds."

"..."

"...We could bring a frisbee. ...Or a ball. To play with."

"You're really bad at this," Rickie states bluntly.

After a long moment, Bryce says quietly, defeated, "Yes."

Rickie tilts her head thoughtfully. "Why did you even take me in if you hate kids?"

"Rickie, I don't hate children. I saw what had happened to you, and I wanted to give you a better home than that awful place you were before."

"Yeah. It's better. No one hits me or locks me up or takes my food away." The very pointed way Rickie says it makes it clear that it's hardly better at all.

Bryce swallows. "If you don't want to go to the park, where would you like to go instead?"

"Home," Rickie says immediately. " _My_ home. Haly's."

"Rickie...they've- they're not-"

"I KNOW they're gone!" Rickie shouts, throwing down her fork. "I know they left me! I KNOW! I still want to go _home_ , though!" She bursts into tears and flees the room.

Bryce sits stricken for a long time. She finally makes her way to the child's room and knocks on the door. "Rickie...can we talk?" There is no answer. "Rickie...I know how hard it is. I lost my parents, too, and even though I was older than you when I started traveling, I know what it's like to be a child alone in a foreign country. But Rickie, you're not alone now. I know I'm not good at taking care of people, but I _want_ to help. I'm here. Just...tell me what you need, or tell me what you hate about everything, I will listen as much as you need me to. So, just...we can just try. ...Please."

There is a long silence, and Bryce is disheartened. "Rickie?" Another long pause. She frowns. "Rickie? Are you in there? ...Are you awake?" When there is still no answer, she starts to knock. The knocking turns to pounding, then she tries to open the door and finds it locked. Cursing under her breath, she calls Alberta to bring the key, and is horrified when the door finally swings open to reveal an empty room and an open window. "Rickie?!"

She rushes to the window. The Family bedrooms are on the second floor, but a skilled, agile, confident child - like circus-trained Rickie Grayson - could climb down all the hand- and footholds on the side of the house. "RICKIE!"

There is a frantic, fruitless search across the front lawns and then the entire cultivated part of the grounds. Bryce vows to plant trackers on her foster child from now on, but first she has to _find_ the girl. "RICCARDA GRAYSON, COME HERE _RIGHT NOW_!"

Alberta offers to search the wilder parts of the estate beyond the gardens, and Bryce, her chest tight with panic and anger and fear, drives out to check the roads. Rickie can't _possibly_ have gotten far, the manor is outside the city limits and even the closest bus stop is about an hour away by bike.

...It would take half as long with an electric bike, though. Even faster if the rider had figured out how to work the modifications that removed the speed cap. Bryce wishes she had thought to check whether any vehicles were missing from the garage, but it's too late now, and Alberta will already be out in the woods and can't check, either. "Dammit!"

Bryce gives up the systematic search and heads straight for the bus stop. There is no one there, but then she checks the route schedule and discovers that the bus passed by ten minutes before. "DAMMIT!"

Hopelessly, she resumes searching the roads and even tresspassing on all the property between the bus stop and where she'd left off. It's no good, and she agonizes about whether to call the police. She finally does, terrified about what could happen to an unaccompanied eight-year-old on the streets of Gotham at night.

After the officers leave the house, Bryce puts sensors on the door and all the windows in Rickie's room. A little after 2:00 in the morning, one of the sensors is tripped, and Bryce rushes to the child's room.

Rickie freezes on the windowsill. She's wearing what looks like one of her circus costumes, a brightly-colored leotard and cape, as well as a crude mask made from a strip of cloth with eye holes.

"YOU WILL NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!" Bryce thunders. "YOU WILL _NEVER_ LEAVE THIS HOUSE UNACCOMPANIED OR WITHOUT PERMISSION, YOU WILL _NEVER_ DISAPPEAR WITHOUT TELLING ANYONE WHERE YOU ARE GOING, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

"And when are _you_ going to start telling me where _you_ disappear off to every night?" Rickie challenges. Bryce stares at her. "You're never in your room. You're never in the kitchen or the library or anywhere that would make sense in the middle of the night."

Bryce wonders how often Rickie came looking for her in those dark hours. She wonders if it was a suspicious girl keeping tabs on a caretaker she doesn't trust, or a lonely, frightened child seeking comfort and finding none. "I...I have- I see gentlemen. It is not appropriate for a foster parent to bring men to the house for that purpose, so now I go to them."

Rickie considers this. She does not look entirely convinced.

Bryce forces steel back into her voice. "My private life is none of your business. You put yourself in great danger tonight and caused us a great deal of trouble. Alberta was worried sick about you. You are _not_ to run off again, and as punishment for tonight, you are confined to your room until suppertime tomorrow."

Rickie stares. "You can't do that to me!"

"I most certainly can! Now change out of those ridiculous clothes and go to bed." She realizes her mistake too late.

Fury sweeps over Rickie's face even as her eyes shine with tears. "I can wear whatever I want! _You're_ ridiculous! I hate you!" She rushes into the bathroom and slams the door shut, the sound of the lock clicking a moment later.

Bryce covers her eyes in self-disgust. She hadn't been wrong to be angry about Rickie running off, but she _was_ wrong to criticize the girl's clothing. The costume was a relic from Rickie's past and her lost home, it was precious to her, and Bryce's unthinking words had hurt her.

 _'I'm a fool.'_ Bryce gives the girl time to calm down, then returns to find Rickie in shorts and a T-shirt, curled up on the windowseat with her face hidden against her stuffed elephant.

"Go away," Rickie mumbles as soon as the door creaks open.

"Rickie...I came to apologize. I spoke out of anger, and...well...I was worried about you, too. I was so worried I got upset, and I took it out on you when I should have just been relieved you made it home safely."

Rickie eyes her. "So I don't have to stay in my room tomorrow?"

"No, you do. You were wrong, too. That rule is not an arbitrary one to control you, it's for your safety. I just wanted to apologize because I was wrong, also. I'm sorry."

Rickie sniffles and rubs at her face. "I miss my mom and dad. I really, _really_ miss them."

Bryce sits down beside her. She awkwardly reaches out, and is surprised when Rickie lunges into her lap and clings to her. She hesitantly puts her arms around the child and gives a very careful squeeze.

"I didn't want them to die!" Rickie sobs. "I know it wasn't an accident, it _wasn't_ , but no one will believe me!"

"The case isn't closed," Bryce says softly. "It's a presumed accident, but the commissioner has been keeping it open because someone...one of her men thinks that the evidence doesn't add up. Someone _is_ looking for the person who killed your parents, Rickie."

The girl looks up at her, wide-eyed. "Is it you? Are you looking for that Zucco bitch, Bryce?"

Bryce is startled, and doesn't control her facial expression in time.

Rickie straightens up. "You are! Are you- Are you secretly a detective, Bryce?!"

"In a way," Bryce says hesitantly. "I freelance, and sometimes offer my services to the GCPD when they're short-handed or have other trouble pursuing cases."

Rickie leaps to her feet. "Then you'll believe me! There was a woman that morning, Bryce, this horrible ugly woman who pulled a knife on Ma Haly and said something bad would happen if she didn't pay for 'protection'! Ma didn't pay, and something bad _did_ happen, they killed my parents for MONEY!"

"I'm looking into it, Rickie," Bryce promises. "I won't rest until I bring Zucco and her bosses to justice."

"I want to help," Rickie insists. "I've been looking for Zucco every night, we can work together!"

"Rickie, it's 2:30 in the morning, you need to go to bed. We'll talk about it more later, all right?"

"All right..." Rickie looks up at her with those beautiful blue eyes of hers. "Will you tuck me in?"

"I...I'm not really sure how to, Rickie, but I'll try."

Rickie climbs into bed, hugging Zitka, and looks at Bryce expectantly. The woman, feeling completely lost, tucks bits of the blanket under Rickie's body, wondering if that's what 'tucking in' means.

Rickie giggles. "Will you sing to me?"

Bryce hasn't sung a note since she was eight years old, sitting on the piano bench next to her father. She swallows. "I...I suppose I could. Is there a particular song you want to hear?"

Rickie opens her mouth to answer, then frowns. Finally she says, "No...whatever you want, Bryce."

"All right." Bryce starts to sing "Ashokan Farewell," then stops in alarm halfway through when Rickie starts to cry. "Rickie?! Are you all right?"

"Keep singing," Rickie sobs.

Hesitantly, Bryce obeys, this time stroking the child's hair in attempt to soothe her. When she reaches the end of the lyrics, she goes through the song again, this time only humming, and Rickie is asleep by the time she finishes. For a moment, she sits still in the dark and the silence. Then she leans to press a gentle kiss to the child's hair, wondering if she's doing it right. Embarrassed, she gets up and leaves the room to go to bed herself.

She can't sleep, thinking of Rickie going out on the streets of Gotham every night in a leotard and a cape, looking for her parents' killer; of Rickie crying for her lost mother and father the way Bryce still, in her heart, weeps endlessly for hers; of Rickie wandering the silent, empty halls of Wayne Manor.

After an hour, Bryce hears her door creak open, and she jerks upright. Rickie stands on the threshold, staring at her. "Do you...need something?" Bryce finally asks.

There's a very long pause, and Bryce wonders if the child might be sleepwalking. Then Rickie asks, "Can I sleep with you?"

Bryce doesn't know how to respond, but finally lifts the covers beside her. Rickie dashes to climb into the bed and press right up against her side, clutching Zitka. Bryce slowly lowers the blanket. She lies down again and puts her arm around the girl, and this time, both of them are asleep within minutes.

TBC

A/N: This is all I have written so far, except for half of the next chapter. I'm going to try to finish the Zucco arc, and then there's a very high chance I will resort to writing random, non-chronological story arcs and one-shots for this AU rather than trying to make it a continuous story. *looks pointedly at keldlando*


	4. Batman & Robin Origins - Part 4 (final)

_**Batman and Her Daughters**_ **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

 **Batman & Robin Origins - Part 4 (rough draft)**

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed last time! I had been regretting posting this fic when it seemed like literally no one on AO3 liked it, so it was reassuring to hear that some people are enjoying it after all.

o.o.o

Bryce tells Rickie a little about her investigation in the hope of easing the girl's scrutiny and changing her focus, but she didn't expect that Rickie would become _more_ involved rather than less. It's getting harder and harder to hide the exact nature of Bryce's work.

"Are you going to look for Zucco after work today?"

"Yes, Rickie." Bryce is trying to herd the girl toward the car. It has occurred to her that driving Rickie to school, rather than making Alberta do it, is a way of bonding with her ward. Plus, it makes more sense, anyway, since Bryce has to head into town for work and, unless it's an errand day, Alberta always has plenty of her own work to keep her busy at the manor.

"Good! I'm coming with you."

"You have school."

Rickie gives her a deprecating look. "My school ends sooner than your work does."

"I can- I have some documents you can look through while I'm out."

"I can look at the documents any time! If you're going out, I want to go _with you_!"

"It's _dangerous_ , Rickie!"

"Flying was dangerous, too, but I did it all the time at Haly's."

"There were safety precautions in place, and people available to spot you. The streets of Gotham are totally different, and I can't split my attention between the investigation and keeping you safe."

"I did just fine looking for Zucco on my own! Why won't you let me _help_?!"

"You're too young, Rickie. I _promise_ you I am taking care of it, but for now, we need to get in the car and get you to school before you're late."

"I hate school!"

"You still have to go!"

There's not much chance for bonding when Rickie spends the whole ride fuming and Bryce doesn't know what to say that won't come out sounding harsh and angry. As soon as she pulls into the drop-off line, Rickie storms out of the car without a goodbye.

Two hours later, Bryce gets an automated call from the school informing her of her child's absence. She drops her face into her hands for a moment, then looks up the tracker she planted on Rickie and sends the information to Alberta. An hour after that, Alberta reports that, while she is tailing Rickie, actually catching the girl is another matter entirely.

 _"Unless you can talk her down, you're not going to be able to catch her, either, at least in your day-clothes,"_ the butler says, brisk and tight with frustration.

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Alba..."

Bryce eventually does manage to catch her ward without changing into the cowl, but only because Rickie was distracted by the cookie samples being given out on the sidewalk outside a bakery. The instant the girl catches sight of her guardian, she stuffs the rest of the treat in her mouth and _runs_.

Bryce managed to sneak very close before Rickie noticed her, and is faster. She snatches up the child into her arms, laughing as if it's a game for the benefit of the bystanders. "Found you, my dear girl!" she laughs gaily. "Good _gracious_ , it's too hot to be running all over the city like this!"

"Let me _go_ ," Rickie complains amidst her multilingual swearing, struggling in Bryce's arms.

"Would you like a batch of cookies before we go home?" Bryce asks, her voice light but her arms firm.

"No! Well, yeah, but I don't want to go home."

"But darling, I've found something that I think you'll find _very_ interesting."

Rickie stills, searching Bryce's face, then nods. This time, when she wriggles to get down, Bryce lets her, then swirls around cheerfully to face the young man handing out samples. "Oh, those look splendid! Wrap me up a dozen or so, would you?"

As soon as they get in the car, Rickie grabs the package of cookies and then demands, "You found a lead?"

"Possibly," Bryce replies in her normal, deeper voice. "You are grounded again, by the way, for skipping school and running away, but I do have some photographs I need you to look at. Do you remember what the wires looked like at the circus...after?"

"Yeah," Rickie says tightly.

"Tell me which of these looks the most like what you remember."

Rickie manages to behave herself and stay home that night, but the next, Batman comes across her eavesdropping at a Maroni restaurant, dressed in the leotard and cloth mask again. Upon being suddenly seized and hauled to the roof, Rickie goes rigid with surprise, but doesn't make a sound or panic, and Batman is grudgingly impressed.

"You need to _go home_ and let me handle this," Batman growls.

"I can _help_! Why won't anyone believe me?!"

"It's not a matter of how helpful you would or wouldn't be, it's about keeping you _safe_."

"My parents weren't 'safe,'" Rickie snarls. "I don't need to be, either, until I find who killed them and make her _pay_."

"She _will_ pay, Rickie. It's my job, not yours, to find her and see that she faces justice."

"How do you know my name?"

"I like to stay informed," Batman snaps, annoyed at her own slip-up. She taps the remote to call the car. "I'm taking you home, Rickie."

"'Home' is probably in Germany by now," Rickie says bitterly, meaning the circus.

"To your guardian."

"Yeah, she does a _great_ job of guarding me. Disappears to run her company all day and then gives me busywork to get rid of me."

Batman catches herself just in time from protesting that it's not busywork. Two minutes pass in sullen silence, then Rickie looks up, confused but interested, at the sound of the approaching car. "Whoa - you're gonna take me home in _that_?!"

"Yes."

"Hm," the girl grunts, looking torn between surliness at being forced to retreat and great interest at the sight of the Batman's sleek, fast vehicle. "Getting to ride in the Batmobile might be worth it, just for tonight."

"Ride in the what?"

"The Batmobile. Because you're Batman."

Nonplussed but careful not to show it, Batman ushers the girl into the car and then gets into the driver's seat. They take off like a shot, and Rickie laughs as she lurches in her seat.

"Put your seatbelt on," Batman orders.

By the time they get to Bristol, the novelty has worn off and Rickie is sulking again, kicking at the dashboard. When she tries to press every button and lever that her feet can reach, Batman enables the autopilot in order to make most of the controls unresponsive. When the car comes to a stop in the cave, Batman hops out and strides toward the computer, pulling her cowl down as she does so.

Rickie is lagging behind, caught up in awe and curiosity again. "You really do live in a cave!"

"Hn."

"Are you an _actual_ bat?! There's a Batcave for Batman! And a Batmobile and a, whoooaaa, is that a Batplane? Is that a Bat _sub_?!"

"You don't have to put 'Bat' at the start of all my things," Bryce says irritably, in her normal voice.

Rickie turns sharply. She frowns, then moves up to the vigilante at the computer. Bryce refuses to look at her, keeping her eyes on the screen as her hands move rapidly over the keyboard, but Rickie steps around until she can see the Bat's face. "You're... _Bryce_?!"

"When I tell you I'm handling your parents' case, you need to trust me. It's not safe for you out there."

" _You're_ Batman?!"

Bryce's hands go still. She turns her head to look at her young ward, not knowing what to say and not realizing that her expression is a severe frown.

Rickie is undeterred. "Hah, Batman's a _girl_! That's way better. We'll find Zucco in no time."

" _I_ will find Zucco," Bryce says in exasperation. " _You_ will be working on schoolwork and helping me analyze leads on occasion, if you insist. Fieldwork is not meant for children." Rickie has already started tapping at random keys. "Don't touch that!"

"This is super-cool. You're not as horrible as I thought, Bryce."

Bryce is starting to get a headache. "Rickie, please change into your nightclothes and go upstairs to bed."

"Wait, but if you're out all night as Batman, and you go to work all day, when do you _sleep_?"

Batman is not always out the entire night, and Bryce often sleeps until midmorning and takes naps during her lunch hour and after work. Rickie, however, is being too bratty to deserve a proper answer. "I sleep when I sleep, and _you_ need sleep, too. Go to bed."

"Can you do the Batman voice again? Now that I can see your face?"

"...I will if you go to bed."

"Really?!"

"Yes."

o.o.o.o.o

It is as if every attempt Bryce makes to shift Rickie's focus away from Zucco only makes the girl more determined. They begin formal training sessions, partially in the hope that Rickie will wear herself out physically and be too tired for detective work and especially fieldwork. (No such luck. Even when Bryce does manage to wear the girl down, Rickie will drift off to sleep during a movie and then wake up an hour or two later, as bouncy and enthusiastic as ever.)

And then it happens. Bryce has the information on the screen, and only turns away for a few minutes (well, maybe more like half an hour) to test something at her laboratory worktable. Then she comes back, reaches for the key sequence that will call the GCPD...and notices that the cave is too quiet. "Rickie?"

She looks around and sees no one. She checks heat signatures in the cave, but the only human one that registers is her own. "Alberta," she calls through her cell, "is Rickie upstairs?"

 _"Not that I am aware of, Mistress Bryce. I thought she was downstairs with you."_

"She _was_ , but...!"

Bryce looks up her ward's tracker, sees that Rickie has gone into town, and suits up. She barely even needs to consult the tracker program as she flies: she knows where Rickie has gone.

There is no one in Antonia Zucco's apartment, but there are signs of a brief struggle. Since Rickie's tracker is still registering at the building's location, Batman tries the roof.

Zucco is sobbing and wheezing as she dangles over the edge. Rickie managed to secure the wire from her stolen grappling gun around a curved exhaust vent, with the other end binding the mobster's ankles. Rickie stands fearlessly right on the edge of the roof, tipping an also-stolen container of acid over the wire. "How do you think it felt for them? You think it was any different than how it'll feel for you, since they didn't know it was coming?"

"Please, please, I'll turn myself in, I swear, please don't kill me, I'll confess to everything, I'll-!"

Acid hisses on the wire, and Zucco screams.

Rickie jerks away when she senses Batman looming up beside her. There is a long pause filled only with Zucco's gasping and weeping. "Well?" Batman finally intones. "Are you going to finish your murder?"

Rickie flinches. "It's not murder, it's justice!"

"It's revenge. There's a difference. Do you think seeing their daughter shed blood would give your parents joy?"

Rickie swallows hard. "She killed them," she finally says in a thin, tearful voice.

For a moment, Batman isn't sure what to do. She makes an uncertain gesture with her arm, cape fluttering a bit, and is startled when Rickie throws herself at her, sobbing into her armor. Batman's arm carefully closes snug around the child.

"My m-medicine," Zucco wheezes, barely able to get the words out. "P-Please, b-bad heart...please...!"

Batman seizes the wire below the acid-damaged segment and hauls upward until Zucco sprawls on the roof. The woman is gasping desperately for breath as Batman rummages through her pockets, locating an inhaler and pills. Zucco gulps at them, almost too grateful to mind when Batman snaps handcuffs on her immediately afterward. "The police are on their way. You will confess to _everything_ , or you'll find yourself on an even higher rooftop next time."

"Yes, yes, I'll confess, I promise, oh God please go away...!"

Later, Batman watches from a different rooftop as Antonia Zucco is led to a squad car. Rickie huddles at her feet, shoulders hunched. "I know it's not satisfying," Batman finally comments. "But, Rickie...nothing ever will be."

"I know," Rickie mumbles.

"She'll be put on trial. I've made sure there's enough evidence for a sure conviction. She'll be in prison for a very long time."

"I _know_."

"...I'm sorry you've had to experience something so terrible, Rickie. No child should ever have to feel what you're feeling right now."

"Shut up!" Rickie shouts. "You don't know anything about how I feel!"

Batman sighs. "Perhaps you're right. After all, they never did catch the woman who killed my parents."

Rickie twists to look up at her, dismayed. "Oh...Bryce, I forgot."

"Call me Batman when I'm in the suit."

"Batman...you lost your parents, too. I'm sorry." Rickie stands up and hugs her. Batman, disconcerted, pats her on the back. Rickie finally leans back and looks up at her earnestly. "I want to help you. I want to make sure no other girls and boys lose their parents like we did."

Batman's heart aches at the echo of her younger self in this fresh little face. "You're already a big help. You liven up the house, make me forget- Make me think about happier things. You give me energy to keep going out and doing this."

"No, I want to help for _real_. I want to be Batman, too! Not _Batman_ Batman because I need a different name and wearing all black is boring, but fighting like you do. I want that."

Perhaps she is simply fueled by the emotion of seeing her parents' murderer get caught, and her enthusiasm will fade with time. She is eight years old, for heaven's sake, she ought to be focusing on friends, play, and schoolwork. "Let's get you home for now. We'll talk about this more later."

"Okay."

In the wee hours of the morning, Bryce awakens when Rickie comes crawling into her bed. She puts her arm around the girl and Rickie cries for a while.

"Did you have another nightmare?" Rickie, like Bryce, often relived the worst night of her life in her dreams.

"No...yes...I dreamed that Mom and Dad put me in a bird nest with a mama I didn't know, and told me goodbye and went away."

"Was it worse than the falling dreams?"

Rickie was quiet for a while. "I don't know," she finally whispered. "They loved me. They said they loved me. But they left."

"They didn't want to leave you, Rickie. They only left because they had to. They wanted to make sure you were safe first."

Rickie's arms tighten around her. "I don't want a new mama."

"You don't have to have one."

"...Robin."

"What?"

"I'll be Robin with you, when you go out to be Batman. That will be my name when I'm helping you. That's what...that's what Mom used to call me sometimes."

"We'll see how well you do in training." Maybe Bryce can make the training so difficult and unpleasant that Rickie will give up and focus on rebuilding her life properly.

"Yeah. You'll see. I'll amaze and astound you," Rickie murmurs sleepily.

"You already do, sweetheart," Bryce murmurs back, almost too quietly to be heard.

[End of the "Batman & Robin Origins" story arc.]

A/N: Argh... Even after I bounced back from being depressed by the initial response, I got bogged down reading comics in an attempt to refresh the source material in my mind so I could write this AU better (except _Dark Victory_ turned out to be completely useless. What the heck, Bruce & Dick would not just pose righteously and go "Oh well, case closed" after they LITERALLY scared someone to death!), then life freaking kicked my butt for a while... And this chapter wasn't flowing very well, either. :/ I don't like how it turned out. Finally managed to finish it, but I have no idea when I'll be able to update this story again. Hopefully soon, since I keep hitting the due dates on these comics...

I'm most likely going to give up writing this AU in order, though I'll try not to get too crazy jumping around with the chronology. Next up, I'm considering a first meeting between Batman & Superwoman, Justice League stuff, or Teen Titans stuff. Maybe Barbara Gordon stuff.


	5. Bat & Cat - Part 1

**_Batman and Her Daughters_** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

 **Bat & Cat - Part 1 (rough draft)**

A/N: I feel like I should give some sort of warning to Bruce/Selina fans, but I'm not sure exactly what to say. Although my muse apparently ships that pairing and I'm more or less going to follow canon, I, personally, do not ship BatCat (I don't romantically ship Bruce with anyone), and this story arc isn't going to be straight-up romance. There'll also be some eventual dubcon.

o.o.o

Batman is relieved as she watches the burglar slink back out the window. She guessed right about the target this time. This 'Catman' has finally been caught red-handed and all she has to do now is capture him.

However, it's not as easy as she expects. Catman's skills are not limited to theft and stealth; although not very big, he's fast and strong, and has had some martial arts training. He's also far more interested in escaping than in staying to fight, which means Batman doesn't have the chance to wear him down or study him as much for weaknesses as she'd like to.

She loses him on a nearby rooftop and grits her teeth in frustration. The only access to the building from up here has not been touched and none of the vents and other openings are anywhere near big enough to fit an adult human. Batman makes her way around, scanning shadows with the equipment in her cowl and checking the edges of the roof for signs of descent.

Then her comm alerts her to a message from the cave, and instead of Alberta as she expects, it's a much younger voice in her ear. She sighs as she tries to keep half of her attention on the search and the other half on explaining to Rickie that the butler's refusal to let her train with explosives in Batman's absence is not, in fact, an emergency.

o.o.o.o.o

Catman keeps silent as he tries to catch his breath. The Batman is faster (and kind of scarier) than he expected. Thrilling as it is to be chased through the night by a winged spectre of darkness, he came way too close to being caught, and even now, he's not out of the woods yet. Batman is _right there_ , prowling across the roof, and Catman doesn't dare leave the shelter of the power unit he's hiding behind.

Then comes a voice out of the darkness, so deep and gravelly that it sends a shudder down the thief's spine. "What is it? ... Why are you still up?"

 _'He's talking to someone else,'_ Catman belatedly realizes, and relaxes just a little. A phone or a comm or something.

"Robin... Robin, I told you that contact on this line when I'm working is for emergencies only. ... That is _not_ an emergency, Robin."

Catman is amazed to hear the bone-chilling voice rapidly soften into something more mundane and even exasperated.

"That was when I was supervising, Robin. You are not allowed to touch anything in that box without permission. There's a _reason_ it's locked."

In fact, the voice sounds almost...feminine? Not girly at all, still rich and somewhat deep, but it's not necessarily a male voice. Catman is deeply intrigued by the possibility that Batman might not be an actual man.

"And why aren't you in bed, anyway? It's a school night!"

Catman is also deeply intrigued by the idea of Batman as a parent. There have been reports about the vigilante recently appearing with a costumed child at his (her?) side, but the idea that they also live together and that Batman struggles to get said kid to behave is kind of hilarious. It also doesn't do any favors for the Bat's mystique.

"Yes, yes, all right, I will if you're still awake when I come home. That is _not_ permission for you to purposely avoid sleeping, Robin. ... Yes, fine. ... I know. Good night, Robin."

The rooftop goes silent again. Batman has passed by and Catman risks slipping out of his hiding place the other way. He's almost made it to the edge when a sudden whisper of air alerts him and he dodges instinctively. Just in time; the bat-shaped projectile embeds itself in a brick rather than Catman's leg. Cat handsprings away, but although he avoids the incoming punch, he's not fast enough to fully disengage from the fight.

What follows is a lot of ducking and dodging, then Catman manages to land a solid kick to the Dark Knight's crotch.

Batman either really doesn't have any balls to defend, or is exceptionally well-trained. Most men, even with protection, would still instinctively flinch or be frantic to twist away. Batman, although attempting to avoid the strike in a businesslike way, didn't seem any more threatened than he/she - they? - would have been if Cat had targeted a less sensitive body part, and they certainly weren't fazed by the blow for more than one second. _'One more mark in the 'Batman's a Woman' evidence box.'_

The fight makes its way across the roof, and Catman knows he's being cornered. He makes a desperate leap that sends him over the edge of the building, and he barely manages to lash his whip around a solid anchor in time to save himself from splatting to his death on the hard concrete. He scrambles for the next building and swarms up to the roof, then risks a glance back.

His heart leaps into his throat when he sees his beloved Osiris, trying to follow him as usual, dashing across the street without looking first. A truck is barreling down at just that moment; Osiris freezes in the headlights. Catman screams in horror when he realizes he's about to witness the violent end of his beloved pet.

A shadow leaps across the street, and when the truck whooshes past, it's through empty air. Catman, struggling for breath, watches intently as Batman slowly uncurls, and there in their arms is Osiris, safe and sound. "Oh, thank God," Catman whispers fervently, suddenly weak with relief. He's shaking so much that his near-silent call falters, but Osiris still recognizes it, squirms out of Batman's arms, and rushes to catch up.

o.o.o.o.o

Batman has lost sight of her quarry, but the cat left a tuft of fur on her cape, and she seals it in an evidence bag in case it might be of use in tracking down the creature's criminal owner.

It has been a disappointing night, filled with failure. Tired and discouraged, Batman sets out on a normal patrol and eventually returns home. She trudges through her post-patrol routine and then peeks in on her ward before retiring.

Rickie is curled up asleep in the window seat. Bryce carries the girl to her bed, but Rickie has latched onto her in that short time and might wake if she's pried away. Bryce sits there on the bed holding her, feeling soothed by her warm weight and the soft movements of her breathing. Bryce leans her head back against the wall, and eventually falls asleep in that state.

o.o.o.o.o

Bryssie Wayne has crafted a reputation for being a shameless flirt, yet quirky enough to be saving herself for marriage. (Of course, she has no intention of ever getting married. She never wants any part of any man inside her ever again. She'll endure kisses if necessary for the sake of the Mission, but there is a clear line she is determined to enforce.)

By this time, it's common knowledge that she won't let anyone very far into her pants (far too many men unfortunately interpret it as a challenge, but at least they _know_ ), so Bryce reluctantly agrees to allow herself to be one of the attractive young socialites auctioned off in a wildlife charity event. "For a date _only_ ," she warns, and has her lawyers draw up an actual contract for the occasion.

The night of the ball, she's all smiles and glamour. When it's her turn, she sits pretty on the stage and makes an idiot of herself with coy poses as people in the crowd call out ever increasing numbers.

"$800! Do I hear $900 for this lovely young lady? $900 for the cats, everyone- A thousand! One thousand dollars; do I hear eleven-"

"$10,000."

There's a collective gasp, and the murmuring crowd almost parts as everyone turns to look at the speaker.

Bryce's eyes widen as well. Despite her aversion to sex and her general lack of attraction, the man who's just bid such an exorbitant amount on her is stunning in a way that strikes her as no one since Talian has. Perhaps it's something about the eyes - the man is not particularly large, but he stands like a king who is gracing the venue with his presence yet has little interest in it. His gaze is clear and strong, like he's above the games everyone at these events always play, and perhaps the thing that stands out most to Bryce is that he's the only man in this place of his age and status who has looked at her without a trace of longing or lust.

He's actually not even really looking at her at all. His eyes are on the auctioneer, then move to the banner with the event's name and an artistic representation of lions, tigers, and cheetahs racing across the a savannah. Then he turns away in unconcern and sips at his drink.

"Er...well, there you have it, folks! $10,000 for Bryce Wayne to this generous young gentleman!"

Bryce blinks and slips off the stool when the auctioneer introduces the next socialite. She makes her way over to the mysterious young man who bid so much money for her. He doesn't look familiar, which puzzles and then concerns her. She ought to know, at least by name, everyone who would ever have any business at a high society event like this. "Well, hello there! Bryce Wayne, but I suppose you know that already."

The man looks up and seems a little unpleasantly surprised to be confronted by Bryssie's bubbly smile, girlish head-tilt, and extended waiting hand.

Despite the fact that Bryce is holding it palm-down and slightly arched in an invitation to be kissed (many men in her social class tend to treat her like an archaic princess), the man reaches out and firmly shakes it instead. Bryce hastily quashes down the pleased approval she feels in response. "Sylvester Kyle."

"Kyle? I don't think I'm familiar with that name. Are you visiting?"

Sylvester smiles. "I suppose you could say that. We don't need to bother with a date, by the way. I'm only here for the cats."

Bryce is a little stunned. It's not often she meets anyone at such a charity event who's genuinely there for the charity, and the few who are are usually older.

She manages to keep her composure. "Ooohh, a cat lover, are you? I love kitties myself." She has no strong opinion on cats one way or the other.

"Do you? How many cats do you have?"

Bryce clasps her little clutch purse to her chest to cover her amused astonishment that he saw through her at once and is actually calling her out on it. She is still suspicious of him, but she can't help liking him more and more. "Oh, none at the moment. My darling Snowflake recently passed and I simply can't bear to replace her." She smiles. "I know I'll be ready for a new one when our eyes meet and we feel that _click_."

She's actually describing what she felt when she locked eyes with Rickie Grayson over those broken bodies in the circus tent, but Sylvester seems to know exactly what she's talking about, so maybe it's the same with cats as it is for children.

The man's smile is more genuine now. "I know what you mean. After Midnight died, I didn't think I'd ever be able to bear taking another cat into my heart again, but the minute Osiris looked up and meowed at me, I knew he'd stolen my heart."

"Did he leave any left over for a lovely lady to borrow for a night?" Bryce suggests, subtly posing. Not too much - she just needs to play a part, not give the man any dangerous ideas.

"I doubt it, but I might not be averse to a fun night if I meet the right lady," Sylvester replies, his gaze now assessing.

"Not _too_ fun," Bryce says hastily, with a bell-like laugh to offset any revulsion she might have let slip. "I am saving myself for my future husband, you know, so that I can be sure he really is The One." She smiles.

"You still believe in handsome princes and knights in shining armor?"

"A girl can dream, can't she? Still, you _did_ just buy a date, so can I assume I'll be seeing you for dinner very soon?"

"An early one, I suppose. I often have plans in the evenings."

That suited Bryce quite well. "Excellent! Here's my card. Just tell my butler the details and dear Alberta will arrange everything." Bryce kisses the man's cheek and glides away.

Sylvester stares after her, admiring both her figure and the lovely jewels around her neck. Hopefully she'll wear something just as nice to their date, though it remains to be seen whether or not she proves good enough company to earn the right to keep them.

TBC

A/N: Since Catwoman's such an old character that comics canon is a mess concerning her, I decided to use _Batman: The Animated Series_ rather than the comics as the main inspiration for introducing BatCat in this AU.

Okay, so I seem to have finally settled into a routine. I for sure have about 80 minutes per week to write (at least, that's all I have if I don't sacrifice important things like sleeping, eating, housework, and paperwork). I am currently rotating through four stories: this one, the "Never Adopted" route of _The Birds Who Smile_ , _When the Shadows Reach Gotham_ , and the "Attic Buddies" AU of _When the Shadows Reach Gotham_. (There are many more stories that I also want to work on, but these are the four that my muse currently seems to have settled on.) I can't promise an actual update schedule, but at least my rate of progress seems to be steady now.

Speaking of _The Birds Who Smile_ , part of my routine is spending about 40 minutes per week editing. Although it took a while, I was finally able to update with the next ten mostly-edited chapters of the main TBWS story. Readers probably won't notice the changes, but if you're super-bored, feel free to re-read chapters 11.1-17. In addition to cleaning up typos and other technical issues, I also did stuff like integrating "forgot to write this last time" scenes into the story proper, allowing characters (mostly Tim, in this particular instance X'D) to cuss uncensored, changed the seatbelt training sessions from five minutes to one minute, etc.


	6. Rickie's Teen Titans - Part 1

**_Batman and Her Daughters_** **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

 **Dick's Teen Titans - Part 1 (rough draft)**

A/N: I just found out that I have to return volume 1 of _The New Teen Titans_ to the library much sooner that I expected, so here's my frantic attempt at the introduction to this story arc...!

I'm probably going to use a mix of Dick's numerous Titans teams, including _The New Teen Titans_ , the _Teen Titans_ cartoon, and the animated movies. This goes for both plot and characterizations.

 **Warning for (canonical) mostly non-consensual kissing.**

o.o.o

It's a full fifteen minutes before anyone in the warehouse finally notices the patiently waiting shadow. "It's the Bat!" Instantly, guns are swinging up, and the drugs and money on the tables are being shoveled into bags and cases.

The shadow is already in motion. The vigilante expertly dodges the wild lines of fire and knocks the weapons away. "Finally. I was starting to wonder if I was collecting too _much_ evidence."

"That ain't Batman!"

"It's the _kid_ , all by her li'l lonesome," someone else sniggers.

Immediately, razor-sharp projectiles are flying, and gangsters start howling in pain. "Yeah. The _kid_ ," Robin says in a monotone, suddenly grim. She steps into full view for the first time.

"Get her!"

Minutes later, Robin is zip-tying the last of the thugs when an explosion outside grabs her attention. She sends a hasty message to the police, informing them of her catch, then dashes outside to see what new emergency has cropped up.

A skyscraper is on fire. There's a UFO in the sky and alligator men with jet packs filling the air.

"...Okay then."

The creatures are carelessly causing terror and property damage, but their focus is on the fiery flying figure trying desperately to get away from them. The golden-skinned man with literally flaming red hair zips crazily, managing to avoid the beams of energy being blasted at him, and he occasionally fires bolts from his hands at his pursuers. He is screaming in rage as his every attempt at escape is cut off.

Robin starts hurling batarangs, aiming for the jet packs. Her strategy is successful at first as the aliens' flying technology malfunctions and they drop out of the sky. But then some of them start converging on Robin, and then she's fighting so hard for her own life that she loses sight of the fire man.

Then something huge and green barrels into the three aliens Robin was fighting, scattering them like bowling pins. None of them get up from where they've fallen.

The green rhinoceros turns its head toward Robin and contorts its mouth in what almost looks like a human smile. "Need a hand?" it asks in a feminine voice.

"Uh...sure," Robin says, because green or rhino or not, allies are always helpful.

Now the rhino is a hawk. A green hawk, soaring over to the group of ugly aliens pursuing the pretty alien, and now she's a (still green) gorilla, roaring as she latches onto four attackers at once and drags them out of the sky.

 _'Green shapeshifter, right. Back to work, Robin.'_ Now that she's got a bit of breathing room, she tries to make her way over to the flying gold man, but then the UFO starts shooting alarmingly powerful beams at her and the other two.

Something beams back. The shot is smaller and different colored, crackles with a different sort of energy as well, but it's right on target, taking out the worst of the gun parts and then moving toward possible suspension systems on the underside of the vessel.

"Thanks!" Robin calls over to the source of the shots, which turns out to be a bulky figure swathed in a hoodie. There's no acknowledgement of her gratitude.

There's a familiar rush of air and a yellow blur. "Kid Flash!" Robin exclaims gratefully when her best friend zooms to a stop beside her.

"Saw it on the news, thought it looked fun," the speedster says cheerfully. She points. "Bad guys?"

"Bad guys," Robin confirms, and then Kid Flash is off again. Robin only then realizes that she doesn't actually _know_ that the ugly ones are villainous and the pretty one is the victim, but then again, the alligator things have been causing far more damage than their main target, so...

"Where's Batman?" a voice asks from above, and Robin turns to see another dear friend descending out of the sky.

"Being a jerk," Robin snaps more sharply than intended. She softens her tone, instantly regretful at taking out her frustration on someone who certainly doesn't deserve it. She forces a smile. "Heh, what is this, a revival of the Teen Titans?"

"Oh God, don't remind me," Dionysos 'Dion' Troy groans.

"In any case, good to see you, Wonder Boy. Let's go kick some booty!"

Dion frowns and mouths _"Lets go kick some booty?"_ in disbelief, but Robin is already grappling over to where the mean aliens have the hottie alien cornered.

Up close, the fire man is even more stunning than he was from afar. Robin admires the muscular, athletic body, wonderfully on display thanks to the skimpy purple outfit. His hair is a marvel, bright red strands flowing up into literal flames that seem to simply be a natural feature of the hair. The golden skin is smooth and taut everywhere it's not marked by scars, and the only thing that might stop Robin from flirting when they get some breathing room is the furious look in those solid green eyes. That is not an expression that will tolerate unwanted advances.

"Let him go!" Robin shouts, and throws a batarang.

One of the aliens impatiently turns and shoots, but a body interposes itself between the attack and Robin. The beam knocks the hooded figure backward. The mystery person grunts, but manages to remain standing. Part of their clothing is now burned away, revealing gleaming metal underneath instead of flesh.

"Thanks, friend," Robin says, patting a shoulder that's far too hard as she passes by.

The golden man manages to get an arm free and fires a starbolt right into the face of one of his captors. The creature shrieks in pain, and its fellows instantly retaliate, beating their captive into the ground.

"I said let him GO!" Smoke bombs go off.

Wonder Boy manages to fight his way toward the seething group. The green shapeshifter flies over as a bird and then morphs into a horse as she descends, taking out another antagonist under her hooves. The golden man makes it back into the sky, but he's taking heavy fire and is dragging as if injured.

 _"There is a portal to their mothership,"_ an unknown male voice speaks into Robin's mind. _"They will give up the chase and continue on their way if they find that retrieving their escaped slave is more trouble than it's worth."_

 _'Escaped slave?!'_ Robin thinks in horror. Deciding to investigate the identity of the mystery voice at a later, less hectic time, she shouts out loud, "Find the portal to their ship!"

"There's a weird energy over there," the metal person in the hoodie mumbles, pointing upward. Sure enough, part of the sky looks like a warped, crackling hole.

"Toss as many baddies as you can through there!" Robin calls.

Her allies start working to obey. The gold alien, viciously slamming bolts into his enemies, does not notice, probably because he doesn't understand English, judging by the unknown words he's been shouting.

One of the alligators manages to get in a solid hit from a blaster gun, and the golden man goes flying. He thuds right into Robin, who'd been making her way closer, and they both go crashing to the ground.

Robin gasps for breath, then raises her head to find that she's flat on her back on the ground, the most gorgeous man she's ever seen sprawled right on top of her. He's between her slightly spread legs, their chests and bellies are pressed together, she can feel his breath warm against her neck. "Well," Robin laughs, still a bit winded, "isn't _this_ a compromising position."

The man raises his head, looking dazed. He frowns down at Robin, then shifts so that he's poised on hands and knees above her rather than heavily blanketing her.

"Not that I'm complaining," she reassures him playfully. "You can compromise me anytime you like, handsome."

She's startled when he apparently takes her at her word. He seizes the back of her head and crushes his lips to hers, and she shivers a little at the forcefulness and the impulse to surrender. She's still too shocked to kiss him back, and before she can get enough of her wits together to try to enjoy getting kissed by an extremely attractive man, she feels... _something_.

Certainly not the something she was expecting (though there's a bit of that, too); it's in her head and in the tingle of sensitive skin contact, and she gasps into his mouth. Her eyes are wide as she senses _something_ flowing from her into him, and suddenly she's terrified that he might be stealing her life force or her secrets or something equally urgent. "Mmph!"

She struggles now, but he's inhumanly strong and holds her immobile. His mouth shifts on hers, not in a sexual way (even though her stupid body is getting as excited as if it was, her legs jerking helplessly as they're kept apart by the body still planted between them), but the flowing feeling intensifies, and there's nothing she can do to stop it. _'Oh God, stop, stop...!'_

Then the alien breaks away and practically drops her, his face hard with anger.

"Ow," Robin says. She quickly self-assesses, trying to determine what was taken from her. She has a sudden mild headache, but her energy level seems to be the same, her body is intact as far as she can tell, and if any secrets were stolen from her mind, she has no idea which ones they were.

"Who are you?" the alien demands, and Robin stares at him in shock, particularly since the accent is bittersweetly familiar. It's a little bit like her mother's accent. In fact, it sounds remarkably like the recordings of Rickie's early days in Wayne Manor, before Bryce's coaching helped her develop an American accent and grow familiar with colloquialisms.

"I- I- What did you - do?!"

The alien, with those super-strong arms of his, seizes Robin's collar and jerks her upper body close. "Who are you?!"

"I-I'm Robin."

"Robin? Do you need help?" The team has gathered around them. Willa's fists are clenched and Dion looks like he's ready to yank the alien off of his friend the moment Rickie gives the word. All the other aliens have vanished, as has the portal in the sky. The shapeshifter is standing curiously nearby, the hooded person farther back with their hands in their pockets, shoulders hunched defensively. In the distance is yet another hooded figure, this one in a blue cape and robes. The battle is over.

"Stand down, I've got this." Rickie meets those glowing green eyes squarely. "My name is Robin," she says in a stronger voice, "and these are my friends. We just helped you. Was that a mistake? What was it you did to me just now?"

The orange-gold hands loosen on her collar. Robin is able to pull away and sit up, scooting back far enough to tuck her legs in close again.

The alien frowns in mild confusion. "I learn your language. Touch skin."

"Touch...?" Rickie blinks. "You learn language by kissing?"

"Touch skin. Soft- _Delicate_ skin, like here," he indicates Rickie's lips, "or-" He starts to reach toward her crotch, but she scrambles even farther away and he drops his hand without touching her.

"Heh, whoa there. I'd like dinner and a movie before we start discussing 'delicate' skin."

The man frowns. "Moving dinner?"

"Apparently language-kissing is not an exact science," Willa mutters.

"She means don't try to get intimate when you're still strangers," Dion cuts in. "Ask permission before you kiss, okay?"

The alien tilts his head in confusion, but agrees, "Okay."

"You have _my_ permission," the shapeshifter pipes up. "You interested in learning French?" She gestures at herself invitingly. "And I know a bit of German. And, like, ten words in Chinese."

"English is good now," the alien says dismissively. "Maybe later." He finally stands up, and Rickie hops to her feet as well.

"So what's your name?" she asks.

The alien hesitates. "All call me 'the Star Fire,' but the real name, it is..." He draws in a breath, then says softly, "Koriand'r."

"Koriand'r? That's your name?"

"Yes."

"I'm Gabby," the shapeshifter pipes up. She smiles. "Gabby Logan. I was with the Doom Patrol, but they... It, um, didn't work out, and I kind of don't have anywhere else to go, so maybe it'd be cool if I hang with you guys?"

"We'll figure something out," Rickie assures her.

There's a whoosh as Willa runs off somewhere, and that's when Rickie realizes that the metal person has retreated, and the only reason they haven't completely disappeared without anyone noticing is because the blue robed person caught them, hand on the person's arm as they speak in an urgent way. Both of them startle back when Kid Flash materializes beside them.

"Let's go see what that's all about," Rickie suggests, and the rest of the group makes their way toward them.

"What do you all want?" the one in the hoodie demands. "I thought the fight was over."

"Yeah, but it'd be nice to know who all helped us out," Rickie says with her friendliest smile. "We really appreciate it. I'm Robin."

"Everyone knows who you are."

"Kori didn't," Rickie points out. Koriand'r blinks in surprise at the nickname. "These are my friends Kid Flash and Wonder Boy, and this is Gabby."

"It's Dion unless I'm on the clock," the young Scythian warrior says, having less concern about hiding his identity than the others do.

"My superhero name is Changeling," Gabby offers.

"That's wonderful," the metal person says with thick sarcasm. "I'm going now."

"Victoria, please," the one in blue says, drawing back his hood. "We all _need_ to stay together. The threat that's coming, it will need all seven of us to stop it."

"What threat?" Rickie asks sharply. "And who are you? Were you the voice in my head?"

"Yes. I am Raven. I have been...watching you all, looking for you." He seems anxious and unassertive as his dark eyes pass over all of them. "There is a great evil that has set his eyes on this world, and I have been searching for those who can help me repel him. You... _all_ of you, even you, Victoria, are needed for this fight."

"Fine, I'll give you my number, call me when you're ready."

"Victoria, no one here will judge you for your looks." At Raven's words, the others look at Victoria curiously, though no one is impolite enough to ask to see what the young woman is clearly so insistent on hiding.

"It's not just my _looks_ , you creep!" Victoria cries, suddenly ripping her hood down. A face is revealed, half flesh and half metal, with a glowing red sensor where one of the eyes would be. "I'm not even HUMAN anymore!"

"One of the most human people I know isn't technically a human," Rickie says casually.

"Ooohhh, are you half-robot?" Gabby inquires eagerly. "Can you, like, access the Internet whenever you want for free?! Do you have video games in your head?!"

Victoria looks nonplussed as she stares down at the smaller girl's bright smile. "Uh...I can do both of those, actually..."

"AWESOME! Let's go to your house and play. I'll bring pizza."

"I don't have a house," Victoria says in frustration, eyeing everyone like she can't understand why they haven't all run away from her screaming in disgust and horror.

"Your apartment?"

"I don't have a HOME! I sleep in a _laboratory_ so I can _recharge_ my freakin' _batteries_ every night."

"Whooooaaa!" If anything, Gabby looks even more admiring.

"Should we be concerned that these two are apparently homeless?" Willa stage-whispers to Rickie.

"Yes."

"These three," Dion points out, nodding toward Koriand'r.

"What about you, Raven, do you have a home?" Rickie asks.

"I...I don't strictly need a home, as I am able to defend and care for myself-"

"Team-up it is," Rickie says decisively, "if for no other reason than we need to give you guys a roof over your heads. I'll ask my- my guardian. Hopefully I can convince her not to make it depressingly black and put Bat logos all over it."

As it turns out, an odd structure called Titans Tower is anonymously donated to the newly re-formed Teen Titans before Bryce can even look into realtors and contractors, but it is a while before the Titans discover the identity of their mysterious benefactor.

TBC

A/N: To be continued, but not for a while, since I'm probably going to get back to the BatCat story now, or else work on the story for whatever comic is due back at the library next.

I don't _think_ it's a spoiler to clarify that the one who donated the tower was Dr. Stone, Cyborg's parent. It's not relevant to the story, as far as I know, other than contributing to a scene where parent and child reconcile; I just flipped through pages and pages and pages of the comic book, trying to find out who the benefactor was, and _finally_ found it.


	7. First Meetings (Clara Kent)

_**Batman and Her Daughters**_ **, a Batman fanfic by Raberba girl**

 **First Meetings (Clara Kent, Rickie Grayson, & Batman) [rough draft]**

 _'Welp, it's official: Lex Luthor is a crazy egomaniac.'_ Clara Kent sighs as the elevator doors close behind her interviewee even before the obligatory "Thank you for your time" finishes leaving her lips. The call button then refuses to work, meaning that Clara has to figure out a different way to get off this floor.

It happens to be the same floor where the daycare center is located. Casting a rueful look at the decorated window behind which a large group of children are busily playing, Clara picks a direction at random and starts heading down the corridor.

"There's something weird about you."

Clara freezes instinctively for a moment, then forces herself to relax and turn around. One of the children is outside the playroom, leaning against the wall as she scrutinizes the reporter. She's a pretty child, with cute clips in her long black hair and casual yet well-fitting, expensive clothes. Her eyes are a brilliant blue, and her gaze is sharp and assessing.

"What do you mean?" Clara asks.

"Something about your walk. Your posture. You're five-foot-eight, one-thirty-"

Clara is shocked at the accuracy, particularly coming from a kid who's simply eyeballing her and can't be older than eight years old.

"-but you walk like you're bigger than that."

Clara is pretty sure the kid is not talking about her weight. "Uh...I-" Then she suddenly realizes why the child looks familiar, finally connects the face to photographs and headlines. "Wait. You're Riccarda Grayson."

"Rickie," the girl corrects warily. "How did you know?"

Oops. "Your Lexcorp I.D. was sticking out of your pocket."

"No, it wasn't," Rickie asserts correctly without checking.

"Yes, it was," Clara says anyway.

Instead of growing uncertain, Rickie tilts her head consideringly. "You're interested in me now that you know who I am. You're a reporter?"

"That's right," Clara affirms, fixing her press badge so that it faces outward again. "You up for an interview?" This is a very unexpected golden opportunity. Bryce Wayne has been very protective of her new ward and very strict about what is allowed into the media. If Clara is successful in snagging an interview, it will be the first one Rickie's given.

"Hmm. Let's say, if you can tell me what else is in my pockets. If you can't, then no."

Clara hides her smile. "Sounds good to me." She uses her enhanced senses to detect the smells of various kinds of paper, rubber, and metal; the shapes of various dense items; the particular crinkles and clinks of each object. Educated guesses fill in the blanks.

Meanwhile, Rickie is assessing the reporter, doing her best to remember all of Bryce's detective lessons and figure out things from the clues. Batman won't let her out at night unless she can master this part of the job as well as the fighting. _'Her hair's a little uneven and her clothes are nice but well-worn, so she probably doesn't have a whole lot of money. Bet she cuts her own hair.'_ Rickie ignores a bittersweet pang as she remembers her old home, the way her parents would cut her hair and find every way they could to save money.

 _'She's windswept; maybe she was the one in Luthor's helicopter earlier. She didn't look like she knew her way around when I saw her; probably lost, maybe even snooping. Midwest American accent...'_ Rickie racks her brain, trying to remember enough to narrow it down. _'Kansas...central Kansas. Still strong, so she's probably new to the city. Something's off about her glasses. Maybe they're not real; part of a disguise? There's a bulge in her pocket, and I can see a red spot of light...darn it, she's probably recording all this right now.'_

Oblivious to the analysis, Clara begins to list, "A bouncy ball; a flyer and some ticket stubs; your wallet, phone, and a house key; some string; a pen, pencil, marker, and notepad; a set of miniature tools; a mirror and something plastic that's about the same size; gum; Band-Aids; tissues; some kind of snack or candy bar; and a pocket knife that I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to have." She smiles at the girl's wide-eyed surprise.

Then Rickie glares and says suspiciously, "You cheated. I don't know how, but you cheated."

"I guessed right, then?"

"Hmph."

To make it up to her, Clara treats the girl to pizza at a nearby arcade, so they can at least hold their interview in a child's standard of comfort. Rickie is excited as soon as the arcade is in sight, and proclaims as she bites into her first slice of pizza that someone named Alba only lets her have it on special occasions.

"Who's Alba?" Clara asks as she picks up her own first slice.

"The butler. And she's kind of the boss, too."

Clara chuckles, imagining a longsuffering, professional woman trying to keep her flaky employer under control while also seeing to the needs of a new child under their care. "Do you like her?"

"Oh, yeah! She's like the grandma I never had. Sometimes she's the only one around to talk to, too; Bryce sleeps a lot... Because she parties all night, you know. It was worse when I first came because Bryce barely talked to me at _all_ , but then it got better and now she takes me to games and shows and stuff. I still get bored, though! The manor's huuuuuuge, and it's just me and Bryce and Alba, and I really want to go to real school because I never went before and there's lots of other kids there, but Bryce and Alba say I have to get to 'grade level' before I can go. I have to do schoolwork every day. I like Alba better than the tutor we had at the circus, though. And she knows literature better than Dad did, but Dad was better at math and he used to teach me, Bryce says I'm already grade level at math. It's literature and history I still suck at. Science is the biggest one, though; we do that aaaalll the time, even when we're not doing school."

Clara feels genuine affection for the child as she listens to the easy rambling. "So you like living with Bryce?"

"Yup. She's really cool when she finally started paying attention to me. She never had kids, you know, so she didn't know you're supposed to play with your kids, but now she does, so we do stuff together. Sometimes even when she's really busy, because you know she owns a company, she'll bring her work into the schoolroom and we'll do our work together, or she'll work in the living room with me when we watch TV. It's like still being together even when we're not doing stuff together, you know? And she gives good hugs. I had to teach her because she didn't know how to do that right, either, but she's all big and solid and sort of wraps around you and makes you feel safe, and she likes me more now so she's not all stiff and weird anymore. Sometimes she calls me 'sweetheart,' I like it when she does that."

Clara is very curious, since none of this sounds like what she expected from airheaded heiress Bryssie Wayne. "I'm glad to hear that she loves you and is doing her best. Everyone thought it was odd that she'd adopt a child while still single."

"She didn't mean to, but she says I remind her of herself."

Clara can see why, though it's still not clear why Bryce went so far as to take the child into her own home rather than simply setting up a trust fund or something. "How do you like Gotham itself?"

"It's _crazy_! I've been all over the world, lady, and I'm telling you, there's no place like Gotham - in a bad way!"

"Lots of unsavory types running around there," Clara agrees. "The Falcones and Maronis, that Oswald Cobblepot fellow, the Batman..."

Rickie gives a bark of laughter at the last one.

"What do you think, real or not real?"

"Even if he wasn't," Rickie says through a mouthful of pizza, "Gotham's so crazy, I bet someone'll dress up like a bat and go out to punch bad guys just because they heard a rumor that someone else was doing it." She swallows. " 'S dangerous, though. Someone who doesn't know how to fight right and doesn't have good enough armor...they can get really hurt."

"I heard something about that recently - guy got arrested for property damage, right along with the thieves he was stopping. He was hospitalized for severe injuries. He claimed to be Batman, right?"

"That guy was _definitely_ fake. If there is a real Batman, he wouldn't get caught."

"Too cool for that, huh."

"Too well- _trained_. You can't go jumping around on rooftops without training."

"Like circus training?" Clara suggests with a grin.

Rickie grins back. "You think I could be Batman someday? Or Batwoman, whatever."

"I think you can be whatever you want to be."

"Not Batman, for sure. He's doing it wrong, you know. All the 'I am Vengeance, I am the Night, pee your pants in terror at the sight of my pointy ears and giant cape' stuff-"

Clara is trying hard to hold back laughter at the girl's enthusiastic impression.

"-all that, I mean...it _sometimes_ works, but not always. They did studies, you know, on dogs, and not all of them respond to fear. Sometimes it just makes them meaner instead of wanting to do the right thing. There's gotta be more of a balance, you know?"

"A balance..."

"Yeah. Darkness needs light, fear needs hope. Just..." She fiddles with her napkin. "Just something I was thinking about."

"I think it's a very good thought."

Afterward, once Clara has seen Rickie safely back to the Lexcorp building, she doublechecks her recordings and then starts dancing in triumph. Interview with Olivia Queen, interview with Lex Luthor, interview with Riccarda Grayson, she is on a _roll_ today. She can't wait to get back to her computer and start writing.

Night has fallen, and she's so deep into revisions that she doesn't register the sound of a second heartbeat in the room. A sharply gloved hand seizes the back of her head and smashes her face into the keyboard. Clara's first, disoriented thought is dismay about her damaged glasses.

" _Who are you_?" a gravelly voice demands. "Why is your birth certificate a forgery? How did you defeat Deathstroke on Bryce Wayne's yacht? _What do you want with Riccarda Grayson_?" The questions pour out, and Clara starts to wonder if she's imagining the panic mixing with the fury in her attacker's voice. If she were an ordinary woman, she'd be helpless and terrified, pinned facedown by a powerful, angry assailant like this.

However, Clara is not an ordinary woman, and now _she's_ angry, too. This joker thought he could get away with invading her home, interrupting her work, breaking a computer that she _cannot_ afford to replace, dammit; demanding information on her sources as if Clara would ever do anything to put an innocent woman and child in danger...

Effortlessly, Clara rises to her feet and turns, which breaks the grip of a figure who, judging by the quality of the suit and equipment, is probably the real Batman ( _'So he does exist,'_ Clara thinks absently). She seizes the masked man by the throat and slams him against the wall as easily as if he's a doll. "Just. What the heck," she says flatly.

Now the Dark Knight really is panicking, though in a controlled way. When writhing and some weird fancy moves fail to break Clara's hold, he reaches for his belt and then sprays something in her face. Knockout gas, possibly, but it simply feels like being sprayed in the face with water, and Clara barely blinks. "You really are- Why a _bat_?"

This time, it's a flare of electricity from a small device on the glove, which tickles slightly.

"I thought maybe you were just going for a generically scary look and the newspapers came up with the bat thing," Clara continues, "but you've got an _actual bat logo on your chest_."

A small bomb goes off in her face, but Clara just blinks a few times and re-focuses. Impatiently, she seizes the cowl and rips it away to reveal...a woman's face.

A _recognizable_ woman's face.

"Wh...What _are_ you?" the woman murmurs in disbelief.

"I'm trying to decide which headline is best: 'Batman Is Real,' 'Batman Is A Woman,' or 'Batman Is Bryce Wayne.' "

The flash bomb is what works, completely blinding Clara and startling her into loosening her grip. The Bat is immediately gone, and Clara's groping hand, the one not filled with a Bat cape, grasps on empty air. Then she suddenly remembers something more pressing than an escaped captive she wouldn't know what to do with, anyway. Luckily, her recording device with its precious interviews is intact. She'll have to re-write the article, which is a pain, but the source material is safe.

 _'...I just got attacked by Batman. Batwoman,'_ she thinks, and fights the urge to laugh. She looks down thoughtfully at the cape, then tries it on, with the poor torn cowl hanging down her back. She looks pretty silly in the mirror, but when she goes up to the roof and starts to fly over the city, feeling the fabric spreading out and flapping around her...it feels good. It feels _cool_.

It feels right.


End file.
